


hi, how can i help you?

by wentzgold



Category: Fall Out Boy, Peterick - Fandom
Genre: Banter, Blow Jobs, Crossdressing, Fluff-ish?, Hand Jobs, M/M, Meet-Cute, Smut, Valentine's Day, pete thinks he's sneaky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22730122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wentzgold/pseuds/wentzgold
Summary: Patrick’s a grumpy, painfully single employee working his shift in a lingerie store on Valentine’s Day. Pete comes in looking to buy something “for his girlfriend”.
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Comments: 10
Kudos: 50
Collections: Be My Peterick Valentine 2020





	hi, how can i help you?

It’s _Valentine’s Day_ , Patrick internally grumbles, and he’s single and working his shift. He grumpily kneels beside the drawer of bralettes and folds them, working deftly as his mind is preoccupied with crabby thoughts. 

“Why the long face?” the voice of his co-worker grins from above him. “Lemme help you with those.” 

Dyed blonde hair comes into view as Meagan kneels down next to Patrick and begins sorting the bralettes out with him. “No Valentine’s day date?”

“Yeah,” Patrick frowns, “I’m here folding _these_ instead of cuddled up with my dark, handsome, tattooed, non-existent boyfriend, so go figure.” 

Meagan laughs, but she’s sympathetic _and_ the coolest lesbian Patrick knows, so he lets it slide. “You got a date for Valentine’s?” Patrick asks, voice rather gloomy and out of it. 

“Mhm,” Meagan absent-mindedly nods, “she’s so fucking hot, I just can’t wait to get home and…. fuck, sorry, too much info,” she sheepishly stops herself.

Great. Everyone’s getting hot steamy Valentine’s day sex _but_ Patrick.

He doesn’t have time to wallow further in self-pity when Meagan suddenly taps him sharply on the shoulder, leaning in to whisper. 

“Seriously, don’t look, don’t fucking turn around, but a total hottie is walking this way, he’s just your type, _don’t_ turn around,” she smirks, before getting up and leaving. Patrick wants to scream for her to come back. How could she leave Patrick to fend for himself! 

Patrick panics. He doesn’t know if he should turn around and look like he so desperately wants to, or just stay put and keep his head down. Oh god, oh fuck.

The first thing he smells amidst the overwhelming perfumed scent of the store is the slight hint of _cologne_. Cool and crisp, refined, strong. Distinctly _masculine_. 

“Hey, ‘scuse me.” 

Patrick whirls around so fast that his back twists in a rather unnatural way, bending painfully as sharp searing pain shoots through for just a second. 

“Ow! Fucking hell!” Patrick groans. 

“Jesus. Are you alright?” the guy asks, voice closer than before. 

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck,” Patrick braces a hand on his back, “I’m sorry, god, ow,” he winces, still kneeling on the floor as he turns around and looks up at the stranger.

The first thing Patrick sees is his _hair_ , dark and flat-ironed, just down to his eyes, a soft hazel rimmed with black eyeliner. And his mouth, lips wide and open just a fraction with shock, pink tongue barely peeking out. Patrick’s eyes travel downwards, down the elegant line of his jaw, the hint of a stubble that frames it, to the tattoos inked onto tanned arms. He is so, so pretty.

As he takes in the sight of him, in skinny jeans and a too-tight t-shirt, Patrick realises. With a brutal force, slamming into his brain like a brick, that the man bending down in front of him is as beautiful as he is jaw-droppingly _hot_. Pretty boy licks his lips, leaving them wetter and _shinier_ than before. 

Patrick tries to remind himself that he’s at _work_ and his dick definitely shouldn’t have twitched like that. _Jesus, get a grip on yourself, Patrick!_

He’s been staring too long. 

“Y’alright?” Pretty boy puts his hand out, hair falling into his eyes. Patrick thinks he might die.

“Um, yeah, sorry,” Patrick grabs Pretty boy’s hand, wincing a little as he gets up. “So, um.”

They stare at each other awkwardly for the briefest of moments, and Patrick momentarily forgets that he’s an employee in a lingerie store and he’s supposed to ask the customer, _hi, how can I help you?_

“Right, let’s start over,” Patrick chuckles, shaking his head. “Hi, how can I help you?”

He’s suddenly greeted by brilliant pearly whites as Pretty boy barks out a braying laugh, a little harder than he should. “Well,” he squints to look at Patrick’s nametag, “Patrick, I’m here to get something for my, uh, girlfriend.”

Patrick’s stomach drops. _Girlfriend_. It makes perfect sense, what other reason would a guy as hot as _him_ be in this store? He’s probably gonna go home with a nice set for his girlfriend to wear and they’re gonna make out and he’s gonna admire his girlfriend looking all sexy in the lingerie set that _Patrick_ picked out for her and-

“Ahem,” Pretty boy puts his hands in his pockets, “so, like, do you guys have, like, sets? I’m not really sure what to get for her.”

“How does she look like?” Patrick reluctantly drags himself back into professionalism.

“Well, um… she’s, hm...” he’s taking suspiciously long to answer such a simple question, “Like, dark brown hair, and, uh, tanned skin,” he pauses again. “She’s around my size, actually, not very tall, like, around….. here?” Pretty boy’s gesturing to right around Patrick’s height.

“Hey, that’s not very nice!” Patrick playfully deflects, making a big show of tiptoeing. “I haven’t seem to have gotten your name, by the way?”

“It’s Pete,” Pete grins at him, “hey, Pete and Patrick, there’s quite a nice ring to it.” 

Patrick can’t help but return the contagious grin, mind already reeling through the different lingerie sets to complement Pete’s girlfriend. 

“What’s her cup size?” 

“Hm?” Pete hums absent-mindedly.

Patrick makes a flapping motion towards his own chest. “Her boobs, genius. What size are they?”

“Oh! Uhm…. boobies, right,” Pete grimaces. “well, like, the smallest size?”

“AAA then,” Patrick proclaims expertly. “What are you going for? Like, sultry… something elegant? Or maybe you’d like something brighter, we’ve got flashy, diva ones too.”

Pete’s pulls a face. “Oh, definitely _not_ the bright flashy ones, imagine _that_!” He laughs that braying laugh again, as if the idea of that’s preposterous. 

Patrick’s not sure what he’s supposed to imagine, but he does have the perfect set in mind for Pete’s girlfriend. Who sounds gorgeous, not that Patrick’s _jealous_ or anything. That would be ridiculous!

“I’ve got just what you’re looking for,” Patrick says, and can’t help but smile a little shyly when Pete positively beams like a ray of sunshine in Patrick’s face, 

-

“So, do you like it?” Patrick hands it delicately to Pete. It’s silk soft, an exquisite wine-coloured set with sleek garter belts. 

Pete seems to have spaced out, staring in awe as he runs his fingers through the silk, the lace, along the waistband of the panties. Patrick feels like he’s looking at something he’s not supposed to, the way Pete’s carefully thumbing the material feels intimate. 

“I love it,” Pete whispers, turning to face Patrick. 

“Great,” Patrick grins, satisfied that he’s done his job well. “Cashier’s right this way, I can take you there.”

Pete stays on the spot, and rocks back on his heels with uncertainty. “Um. Actually. I was thinking, uh. Can I go try it on?” he jerks his head towards the fitting rooms. “Just- just to see how it fits. She’s like around the same size as me, see, so I wanna, uh, make sure it’s comfy for her.” He hurriedly adds, when Patrick stares at him uncomprehending. 

Patrick doesn’t believe his ears. Not believing his ears is an understatement- he thinks he’s suffered an aneurysm, died, gone to hell and now he has to relieve this moment forever, with Patrick gaping in shock at this beautiful boy for the rest of eternity.

“It’s… it’s not that weird, right?” Pete grimaces apologetically at Patrick’s reaction.

Of course it’s not weird, fucking sexy is what it is. Patrick’s hands are shaking a little as he gives Pete a set in the right size, head swimming just a bit as Pete goes into the last fitting room stall, and clicks the lock shut. 

Patrick takes a deep breath and leans against the wall next to the stall door. He tries desperately not to think about Pete getting naked right now, putting on- fucking _lingerie_ complete with garter belts. He tries not to think about Pete’s tanned, firm muscles, tattoos- does he have any more on his chest? He tries not to think about the wine-coloured silk embracing the curve of Pete’s ass, panties stretching below the jut of his hipbones, his dick straining against the smooth fabric, garter belts strapped over toned thighs-

Patrick’s not very successful. His dick throbs and fills, uncomfortably hard against the inseam of his jeans. 

_God, would it kill him to not be a horny little shit all the time?_

“Patrick?” Pete’s muffled voice comes from inside the stall. Patrick’s heart almost stops.

“Yeah?” He replies with bated breath.

“I- I need help,” Pete says, “the lace- it’s caught onto my piercing and I can’t get it out.” 

Piercing? Patrick didn’t see him with any earrings. Maybe Pete has a navel piercing. Patrick takes a deep, shaky breath.

The lock clicks open. “I’m coming in now,” Patrick warns, pushing open the door.

Nothing could’ve prepared Patrick for the image in front of him. 

It’s Pete, but with a whole lot more tanned skin revealed. He’s smooth and clean-shaven, too, garter belts and panties on- Patrick’s eyes go wide- the outline of his dick is painfully visible against the thin silk, and he’s _half hard_. Patrick thinks he might come right there and then at the sight, a tattoo low on Pete’s stomach, the necklace of thorns inked below his throat. He wants nothing more than to run his tongue over them, map out how they taste, especially right now, with Pete gazing at Patrick with an unreadable expression, all parted lips and heavy breaths. He’s gotten completely tangled in his bra, arms in an unmovable position. 

Patrick is so, so hard, cock thick and pulsing uncomfortably against his thigh. He might completely lose circulation to his dick if he doesn’t take his jeans off right now. 

Oh wait, but the _piercing_. Patrick finally sees it, a shiny, silver ring on Pete’s nipple, which is caught onto some lace. _Of course_ Pete would be the type to have a fucking nipple ring.

“Patrick,” Pete gasps, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but could you just…?”

Patrick swallows hard, and takes two steps forward. _Oh God, oh fuck_ , there is no way that he’ll be able to do this without touching Pete’s nipple. He reaches out, and gently, cautiously, pinches the brown nub of Pete’s nipple between his thumb and index finger. Pete exhales shakily as Patrick detaches the piece of lace. It’s silent except for Pete’s breathing as Patrick untangles Pete, helps him clasp his bra properly. 

“The girlfriend doesn’t exist, does she?” Patrick finally speaks, voice low and thick with arousal as Pete finally turns to look at himself in the mirror, twisting this way and that to admire himself.

“No,” Pete replies, voice soft, as Patrick licks his lips and leans in. “Thought so. You’re not very good at lying.” 

“I’m-I’m not?” Pete’s eyes widen, tongue flitting over his lips. 

Without meaning to say it, the words spill from Patrick’s lips. “You’re look so fucking hot, Pete. I just- it makes me want to _do things_ to you.”

Pete doesn’t need to ask what things.

“Fuck it,” with a mad urgency, Pete fists the front of Patrick’s shirt, hauling him in for a deep kiss, wet and sloppy and perfect. Patrick moans, muffled by the slick slide of Pete’s tongue against his own, as he pushes Pete to sit back on the long cushioned stool in the fitting room. Patrick makes short work of his jeans and straddles Pete, pushing his hips against Pete’s eagerly, cocks pressed up against each other. Pete curls his hand around Patrick’s neck, thumb stroking the nape as his other hand presses the small of his back, grinding closer to Patrick.

“Look at you,” Patrick coos, breaking the kiss. “So pretty,” he murmurs, presses open mouthed kisses down the line of Pete’s throat, down to trace his tongue over the thorns near his collarbone. He latches his teeth on the soft skin just above his collarbone, tongue going over the same spot again and again, making sure to leave a mark. Pete thumps his head back on the dressing room wall, groaning as Patrick kneels on the dressing room floor continues his path downwards, unclasping the bra to tug on Pete’s nipple ring with his teeth, before rolling his tongue around his nipple, feeling the cool metal against his tongue as he pinches the other one, eliciting a high pitched whine from Pete.

Patrick grins up at him, tapping his lips playfully with a finger. “Shhh. Wouldn’t want any customers to hear us now, would you?”

“ _Hnngh_ ,” Pete responds cleverly. “ _Please_ ,” he thrusts his hips towards the air, signalling the lack of attention towards his dick. 

“We’re just getting to the good part,” Patrick palms Pete through his panties, rubs his thumb over the damp spot on it. “Wanna suck you off so, so bad.”

Pete has never nodded faster in his life, God. The mental image of Patrick’s pink, wet mouth stretched around him is enough to send him scrambling to take his panties off. His cock springs free, blood dark, leaking and lust engorged, curving upwards to Pete’s stomach. 

Patrick leans forward and grips the base, licking a hot stripe up the underside before closing his mouth around the tip, looking up at Pete as he slowly laves his tongue over the slit and suckling like he’s got all the time in the world. 

“Stop…stop teasing,” Pete manages, carding his fingers through Patrick’s hair. “Just suck my dick already.”

Finally, finally Patrick obliges, sliding down, all the way down until his nose hits the neatly trimmed hair at the base, inhaling the musky scent. He sucks, swallows, sucks, curls his tongue against the nervy, leaking head, and it isn’t long before Pete’s starting to thrust, fucking desperately into the tight, wet heat of Patrick’s mouth.

Pete keens above Patrick, jaw falling slack as his thrusts get increasingly sloppier. Patrick presses his fingers on Pete’s hipbones- pale fingers against golden brown skin, sure to leave marks. 

Pete whimpers, hips stuttering. “P-Patrick, I’m gonna…”

Patrick wants to taste him. Wants the bitter saltiness of Pete to flood his mouth, his throat, overwhelm his senses. He sucks fervently, and moans around Pete’s dick purposefully.

“Pa-atri- _Ah!_ ” Pete cries out, arching his back as he comes, _hard_ , the sheer force of it fills Patrick’s mouth, hits the back of his throat, drips from his lips. He pulls off, grinning, lips slick with Pete’s come. It’s easily the hottest thing Pete’s ever seen.

“C’mere, c’mere,” Pete grabs Patrick up, wasting no time licking his own palm and at _long last_ , curling rough fingers around Patrick’s dick, already leaking and begging for release. He strokes Patrick harsh and fast, twisting just a little on the upstroke. The wet sounds of skin on skin are all that can be heard. Patrick’s so desperate for release and the callouses on Pete’s hand drag in just the right way, and oh god oh fuck _yes_ \- Patrick comes messily onto the floor with a low moan, voice breaking. 

They sit in silence for a moment, regaining their composure as Pete puts his clothes back on and Patrick stares at the cooling come on the floor. 

“Wow. I’ve never- never in a _dressing room_. And it looks like I’m gonna have to clean that up,” he sighs, looking up at Pete with a half-smile.

Pete pulls his shirt down, the last strip of golden brown skin disappearing under black cotton. “Yeah, me too. And best if you do, don’t want you getting fired. Say, when does your shift end?”

“In about……… hey, fifteen minutes!” Patrick gleefully replies, checking the time on his phone. To his delight, Pete smiles back just as wide, and Patrick can see the little beginnings of crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. 

“Wanna grab a coffee after your shift? I can wait for you at the cafe downstairs….? I mean, only if you want,” Pete quickly adds, an air of nervousness suddenly washing over him. 

“Yes,” Patrick agrees all too eagerly, “God, yeah, I want,” he laughs.

Pete smiles, all bright and sunny like a 5 year old, leaning in swiftly to peck Patrick on the cheek. “Happy Valentine’s day, by the way.”

Patrick blushes a fabulous shade of pink, which is ironic, considering how a simple kiss on the cheek can do that to him after all that they’ve just done.

He walks out of the dressing room with a spring in his step, Pete following behind him. Meagan catches Patrick’s eye, raises an eyebrow at Patrick’s dishevelled hair, lopsided cap, and slanted nametag. She smirks knowingly, and winks at him.

Patrick feels like the happiest man alive. Looks like he does have a Valentine’s date after all.

**Author's Note:**

> i hoped you enjoyed that! comments/kudos would be greatly appreciated <33 thanks for reading!


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